


Untitled Teen Wolf ficlet (post 2x10)

by alsointogiraffe



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Spoilers, post 2x10, preslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 07:42:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alsointogiraffe/pseuds/alsointogiraffe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Shut up, Stiles,” Derek says.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled Teen Wolf ficlet (post 2x10)

**Author's Note:**

> Two words: blame [laheysmash](http://archiveofourown.org/users/laheysmash)! She dragged me into this fandom (and I'm not kidding, because the Internet has its own claws, just like these werewolves do, okay? She dragged me in and didn't let me out). But I'm rolling with it, even if I really have no idea what's going on. Because I kind of like it. Or something.

Stiles laughs awkwardly, because that’s what he does, and says, “Back in the room, you know, it was almost kind of funny how, like, I was paralyzed and right on top of–”

“Shut up, Stiles,” Derek says. 

Stiles obliges, but only for a minute. “If it made you uncomfortable, I mean, don’t worry, because I totally was, too, and frankly–”

“Stiles. Shut up.” 

“Right, okay.” He sits up a little straighter in his seat and rubs the back of his neck. He feels that the silence needs to be filled with something other than the quick, sharp glares that Derek keeps shooting him any chance he gets–which are mostly at red lights and powerful enough to speak a thousand words. _They’re like photographs_ , Stiles thinks to himself, and tries not to laugh again. 

Really, he doesn’t know why he feels the urge to laugh at all, especially considering that night’s events. He still hasn’t spoken with Scott, and only exchanged a few words with his dad before he was sent to the hospital. Fortunately, he was conscious and didn’t seem too beat up physically. He did, however, just see, you know, _werewolves_ and _lizard Kanima things_ and Stiles doesn’t know how, emotionally, his dad is going to process all of these new details. Furthermore, Stiles has no idea what happened with Matt and Jackson, or any of the Argents, for that matter, but he has a funny feeling that it wasn’t anything good. The feeling is so funny that he doesn’t know what else to do but laugh, because, on top of having the worst night of his life, he had been paralyzed on top of Derek, which hadn’t been on the top of his agenda, though he had been meaning to get closer to him. Except not now, in the car–with Derek, who seems angry more than anything else.

For whatever reason, it’s sort of funny.

He fidgets in his seat. The ride back to his house from the police station is supposed to take five minutes, he thinks, maybe six or seven. He looks at the clock in the car and realizes it’s only been, like, two, and he says out loud, “ _Fuuuuuck_ ,” and finally caves and asks Derek if he knows what happened.

His hands clench the steering wheel, knuckles white, and he replies, “No.” 

Stiles goes to press for details, but Derek shoots him one of his _looks_. Stiles sighs and decides not to ask anything else. It takes another minute or two for Derek’s grip on the steering wheel to loosen. Another minute of tense silence passes before they’re pulling into Stiles’s driveway. Things at his house, compared to the police station, appear so calm that he wonders if they didn’t just enter some alternate universe where nothing bad ever happens and supernatural things don’t exist. The lights are off. His jeep is there, still in one piece–thank God. It’s so normal that he almost wants to laugh again. He’s home–he couldn’t go with his dad to the hospital because he has _school_ tomorrow. He looks over at Derek, who asks, “Are you going to get out?” 

Stiles reaches toward the door and says, laughing, “It’s kind of funny that we’re not all dead yet.”

Stiles almost jumps when Derek snorts in laughter and says, “Yeah, no kidding.” He waits a moment and adds, back to his serious self, “If anything happens, you call.”

“Yeah,” Stiles agrees. “Will do. Night.” Derek just nods back, a sort of a _goodnight_ that also seems kind of protective and maybe a little uncharacteristic of him. Stiles laughs again as he watches Derek pull away, because what aspect of his life right now isn’t a little out of place?


End file.
